


Chasing the Stars

by Flips_and_Quips



Series: Bound Together by Fate [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Force Shenanigans, More tags to be added in the future, Pre-TFA, Time Travel, no beta we die like men, pre-AOTC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21986965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flips_and_Quips/pseuds/Flips_and_Quips
Summary: The Force seems especially bright around Rey, and with her standing next to Anakin with his own supernova presence, their combined Force signatures are almost as blinding as twin suns of Tatooine.It is a wonderous thing to witness, to see how their combined presence circle and twine around each other, feeding into the ether of the Force — radiant and pure — but dangerous as well. If Obi-Wan and Anakin can sense her, then surely other Force sensitives can as well.Or:A fateful accident brought two beacons of the Force together, and now the legends of old have been brought to the present. Nothing’s going to be the same.
Relationships: Rey & Anakin Skywalker, Rey/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Bound Together by Fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645642
Comments: 92
Kudos: 292





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: I’ve been holding onto the WIP of this for so, so long. It isn’t until recently that I began been working on it again, thanks to [Mad08’s](%E2%80%9C) encouragement. It’s such a self-indulgent thing, I have no excuses. I have no concrete plot yet but I just wanted to write for this pairing, so here we are. Also, I’m just...going to willfully ignore the reveal from TRoS because I can.**
> 
> **Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, it belongs to LucasFilm Ltd. and Disney.**

The ship lurches and shudders, the klaxon blaring deafeningly in the background. Anakin grits his teeth, his temples damp with sweat, as he focuses his attention on the control panel. From the copilot's chair, Obi-Wan glances at him warily, his knuckles blanching as he grips the arm rests. 

"Anakin," he begins tersely. He doesn't get much farther than that before Anakin interrupts him with an impatient retort of, "Master, if we want to get back to Coruscant in one piece, we’re going to have to make sure those fighters don’t blast us into space dust. I don’t know much more we can take before the shields shut down completely."

Obi-Wan's brow arches high, a look full of reprimand, but he chooses not to comment on Anakin's sharp tone. Now is not the time, he agrees as much. The ship's system readings are an alarming red, flashing a warning of their failing shield generators. It was a miracle they were able to get the ship to fly, let alone exit the planet's atmosphere. This ship’s main purpose was for leisure, weaponless as it was, but Obi-Wan and Anakin had little choice on the matter — it was the only available ship docked in the hangar when they had made their hasty escape.

Beside him, Anakin mutters something foul in Huttese as the ship rocks to the side, having taken another hit from one of the enemy fighters. Anakin can barely think, can barely even _breathe_ beyond the frantic need to get out of hostile territory. Even as his entire body sings with the adrenaline that fuels his determination, the Force roils with unease and echoes of warnings that Anakin nearly misses in his panic. But when a fighter blasts a series of shots that he just _barely_ misses, the warnings slip to the back of his mind. He has other, more pressing things to worry about at the moment.

Anakin angles their ship sharply to the left, barely missing the array of blasts aimed at their ship’s wings. The viewport before them lights up with flashes of explosions, set off where their ship had just been. 

_Almost there, almost there_ , Anakin thinks desperately as they approach an asteroid field. He steels himself, fingers tightening around the steering gear. He takes a deep breath before he opens himself up to the Force, entering a semi-meditative trance as he guides their ship through the narrow space between two asteroids before he takes a sudden dip below another. Overhead, a fighter erupts in a fiery explosion as it collides into an asteroid. That’s one down, then. 

Once Anakin has cleared the asteroid field, he’s greeted with open space. He takes a huge gulp of breath, turning to Obi-Wan. “We’re going to have to take successive jumps if we want to have a chance of shaking them off, Master, otherwise we’ll be sitting ducks out here.”

“Do we have enough fuel to even attempt that, Anakin?” Even as he speaks, Obi-Wan is already reaching for the navicomp, going through the possible calculations.

“You know how the saying goes, Master,” Anakin quips, priming up the hyperdrive. “Do or do not, there is no try.”

Not even a second later, an enemy fighter had just cleared the asteroid field behind them and several shots rock their ship once more, jostling them from their discussion. 

Obi-Wan grits his teeth, turning to give Anakin a solemn nod. They had no choice, it was either take the chance at an escape or be blasted into space. 

Anakin returns the gesture, readying the ship to jump into hyperspace. With pull of a lever, the stars outside the viewport bleed into streaks of white as they’re pulled into a hyperlane. The ship rattles and shakes, and unexpectedly, the Force pulses with waves of energy.

Both Anakin and Obi-Wan flinch, not quite expecting a reaction like that — it reverberates to their very souls, compressing and stretching their senses all at once. They wince in discomfort, their mutual pain echoing through their bond. The stars outside their viewport flicker and distort, and Anakin shakes himself, not quite sure if he was still reeling from the sudden agitation in the Force that he had imagined everything.

“Master, what—”

“Brace yourself, Anakin, I have a bad fe—”

Unexpectedly, their ship lurches out of hyperspace, jostling them rather violently in their seats that Obi-Wan’s next words are cut off as he lets out a grunt of surprise. 

After making sure that neither one of them are injured, Anakin leans over the console to peer down at his fuel gauge. He frowns when he finds its still just a little below half-full. While it wouldn’t have been enough to get them to Coruscant, it still wouldn’t have been a big enough issue to drop them out of hyperspace so suddenly. He then begins meticulously going over the readings, a luxury he wasn’t able to do in the middle of the dogfight. 

When Anakin finally pins down the problem, he lets out a soft curse, slamming a hand on the console. Obi-Wan turns to look at him, sighing at Anakin’s language. Anakin’s face is pinched in frustration, and he reaches up a hand to tug at his Padawan braid out of habit.

“The flux capacitor’s shot, Master.” 

Obi-Wan groans, rubbing his fingers over his temple. “If it’s not one thing it’s another,” he mutters, already going through possible scenarios in his mind. They had to _move_ , and they had to move quick. If those enemy fighters did manage to catch up to their current location, they’d be vulnerable. 

Obi-Wan takes a moment to compose himself before straightening up in his seat. He turns to face his anxious Padawan, who was trying his best to mask it, and says in a level voice, “Alright, we have enough fuel to land this ship, at the very least. Find the nearest planet, and we’ll see about getting it repaired. The sudden drop from hyperspace might have confused them, at least for now.”

Anakin nods, scooting closer to the navicomp. “It says here that Jakku’s the closest habitable planet.” He scrunches up his nose in distaste as reads over the available data — _star’s end, a_ desert _planet of all places? It just wasn’t their day._ “There isn’t much on the database about it, Master. There isn’t even anything about a capital city. We’ll be walking in blind, so to speak.”

Obi-Wan pauses to deliberate over their choices. After a beat with his mind finally made up, he says, “We haven’t much of a choice, Anakin. I’ll plot the course for Jakku.”


	2. Chapter 1

Anakin fidgets impatiently, his boots slip-sliding across the slippery surface of the sand dune, occasionally sinking in ankle-deep whenever he would lose his footing. He hates sand, and now he's surrounded by it. _Again_. It stretches beyond as far as the eye can see, an endless horizon of gold. This system's sun might not be the binary suns of Tatooine but his long years on Coruscant have left him ill-prepared for the desert planet's dry, blistering heat, making the collar of his tunic stick uncomfortably to his neck from sweat. He has his Padawan’s braid coiled around his nerf tail at his Master’s insistence, something about _blending_ in. 

It takes all of his will power not to huff impatiently after his Master, though it is a close call more often than not. He has a feeling that he is broadcasting his displeasure through the Force despite his tightly wound shields - the heat is probably getting to him if his emotions are able to slip through the cracks despite him consciously trying to mask them. 

Anakin contemplates tossing his outer tunic and tabards but he knows Obi-Wan would disapprove of the mere notion of that. So it’s with a laboured sigh that Anakin trudges on, inwardly grumbling about the state of his clothes — it’ll take forever to get rid of all this blasted sand. He can already feel it clumping in his hair and the folds of his clothes. It’s a feeling he has definitely not missed. 

Obi-Wan’s voice draws him out of his musings. “Come along, Padawan, the sooner we get to a town or a spaceport, the sooner we can leave this planet.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin slaps his hands over his outer tunics and tabards in futile hopes of dusting the sand off but he knows that it’s no use. He shakes his head, deeming it a lost cause as he heaves another sigh, before he rushes to catch up to his Master’s purposeful strides.

* * *

The sun is in its zenith by the time they find something resembling a settlement. It’s a tiny speck in the distance, but both Master and Padawan can feel the slight echo in the Force, a cacophony of other lifeforms packed into one area, leaving ripples in the air.

Hopes bolstered, Obi-Wan and Anakin quicken their pace. As they approach, they realise that the outpost is small, and even for a barren desert planet like this one, it is _underwhelming_ to say the least. Various small tents and stalls are set up around the immediate area but even then, the outpost did not cover much ground. There were no other sturdy structures save for the one weatherworn blockhouse that stood off to the side of the encampment, shaded by a makeshift tent. There are scavengers scurrying to and fro, hauling their loot across the sand with determined grunts, paying little mind to them. Several landspeeders and speeder bikes zip past them, leaving plumes of sand in their wakes. 

The nauseating stench of machine oil mixed with the strong musk of the few dawdling pack animals does little to soothe Obi-Wan's roiling stomach. 

As the two Jedi approach what seems to be a rusting archway, Obi-Wan can faintly make out the engravings etched on the faded red durasteel. The letters were mostly unfamiliar to Obi-Wan, but he could vaguely recall seeing those slanted shapes and curves before, if only he could—

"Niima Outpost," Anakin spits out from under his breath. Obi-Wan levels his Padawan with a measured glance, somewhat taken aback by the venom in his voice. 

"It's _Huttese_ , Master," is Anakin's eloquent response, as if that explained his sudden hostility. 

Obi-Wan does not look mollified by Anakin’s reply, but he sends a wave of calm through their bond regardless, hoping to soothe his Padawan’s unease. The tension in Anakin’s shoulders loosens, and the furrow between his brows smoothes out as he composes himself. 

“Center yourself, Anakin. You’ve been on edge ever since we landed here,” Obi-Wan says, observing his Padawan with a thoughtful purse of his lips.

Anakin frowns, staring down at his feet intently. At length, he musters a weak, “Don’t you feel it, Master? Something doesn’t feel right.”

Before Obi-Wan has the chance to respond, the sounds of a disagreement could be heard — heated words and cusses thrown around in rapid-fire Huttese and Basic. Their voices are a jumbled mess of expletives and shouts at this point, but Anakin can make out a muffled voice grunting out an indignant, “It’s mine, Vuus, let _go_.”

They both turn in unison, just in time to see a crowd of beings starting to form a half-circle around the ones in the centre. 

The Force all but _compels_ Anakin to investigate, drawing him in by tether hooks and he’s helpless to its pull. He strides over despite Obi-Wan's whispered warnings not to do anything foolish, lest they draw unwanted attention to themselves. As he draws closer, he can hear the argument turning physical, sounds of fists hitting flesh accompanied by pained grunts filling the air. The other scavengers look on in curiosity and wariness but Anakin notes that not even a single one moves to put a stop it. He clenches his jaw in determination and hastened his steps, shoving his way past the crowd.

When he finally breaks through the crowd, he realises that two Rodians and a smaller humanoid figure are grappling for the net filled with an odd assortment of machine parts. At first, it seems like the Rodians have the upper hand but the person clearly isn't giving up without a good fight. Now that Anakin is close enough to see them, it's become clear that they are surprisingly quick on their feet and alarmingly fast with the durasteel quarterstaff clutched in their hands, spinning it deftly to deflect the Rodians' clumsy hits — it seemed like Anakin’s earlier assessment was a little off the mark. He waits in the wings, acutely aware of the curious glances he has thrown his way. He clenches and unclenches his hands, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet but still, he waits, simply observing for the moment.

The person is surprisingly agile and economical with their hits, sparing no fancy manoeuvres when precise strikes could easily serve their purpose in the fight. It finally seems like they were in control of the fight, when suddenly one of the Rodians catches them by surprise by kicking up sand in their direction, momentarily distracting them. The other Rodian uses the person’s distraction to their advantage by aiming a swift, and by the looks of it, painful kick to their shin with its steel-toed boot. With a strangled gasp, the person falls down in a heap, their durasteel staff and net of spare parts cluttering onto the sand. The Rodians then made a move as if to sweep in and _relieve_ the person of their items, but it was then that Anakin decided to intervene. 

It’s been a while since Anakin’s been in a proper brawl, with nothing but his wits and his fists, but when he rushes in with a yell, instinct takes over. The Force sings around him, guiding his movements as he moves fluidly between delivering punches and ducking to avoid the Rodians’ frenzied retaliations in a deadly dance. It would be easier to simply take out his lightsaber, for intimidation if nothing else, but the Force warns him off such hasty actions. 

In the back of his mind, he feels his Master’s exasperation heavy in the Force before it’s reeled back in. _A low profile, remember_? Is the distinct impression Obi-Wan leaves behind in their bond, but to Anakin, it’s all background noise. He is too focused on the two Rodians hellbent on kicking his ass. 

The Rodians attack him with gusto, hoping to overwhelm him as they had tried to do with the other person, but Anakin isn’t one to back down from a fight. He leaves no room for openings, and it isn’t long before he’s managed to pin one of the Rodians to the ground, a knee braced on their back to keep them in place. He looks up at the other Rodian who cowers in fear when they catch sight of Anakin’s fierce glare. 

“ _If you know what’s good for you,_ leave _,_ ” Anakin grits out in Huttese, tightening his grip on the Rodian below him.

The Rodian he has pinned beneath him squirms and pats the ground with their free hand. “ _Okay, okay, you’ve won. Let me go_ ,” they beg, their ears twitching in agitation.

Anakin exhales sharply through his nose, lifting his weight off of the Rodian. With a gasp, the Rodian rolls over to their back, chest heaving in gasping breaths as their companion rushes in to help them to their feet. They both stare at Anakin in awed fear, whispering to each other before taking off in the opposite direction.

Once Anakin's made sure that the two Rodians have scampered off to a much safer distance, he finally turns his attention to the figure crumpled on the ground who is nursing their wounds with quiet hisses of pain and narrowed eyes, only barely visible through the scraps of fabric covering their face. 

With pained, jerky movements, the person moves to push back their headdress, revealing a young, distinctly human face. It was a girl, a _human_ girl, and she couldn't have been much older than Anakin was, maybe even younger. 

"I could have handled that," she snaps, pushing back wisps of dark hair from her face with an irritated huff. She refuses to meet Anakin’s gaze, an embarrassed scowl twisting her features. 

"Clearly," Anakin deadpans, the hand he had extended to help her falling limply to his side. He barely registers his Master finally approaching the fray, who sends a slight compulsion in the Force to disperse the lingering crowd. 

The girl, still unnamed, eyes them both with a great deal of suspicion. She pushes herself up to her feet, wincing when that puts a sudden strain on her twisted ankle. She wobbles for a moment but she manages to catch herself at the last minute, leaning most of her weight on her good foot with the help of her staff.

It doesn't escape Anakin's notice when the girl hugs the frayed net closer. "We're not here to steal from you," he says, frowning. She does not look comforted by that. If anything, those words make her tense with suspicion. 

"And I suppose you just helped me out of the goodness of your heart?" The girl snorts derisively, glaring at them both with a fervour that takes even Anakin aback.

This time, it is Obi-Wan who answers her, putting a hand on Anakin's shoulder before he can utter a retort. "We were merely passing through. My," He pauses, taking a moment to consider his next words carefully. "Colleague and I are rather lost, you see. I'm afraid our ship suffered quite a beating. Could you possibly direct us to a mechanic?"

Anakin lets out an affronted noise at the idea of having to find a mechanic — he was more than capable of repairing their ship, _thank you very much_. 

Obi-Wan sighs, having picked up on his Padawan’s line of thought from the slight purse of Anakin’s lips — a little tic he still had whenever he would feel frustrated. 

“Or perhaps a junk dealer? My colleague and I can handle ourselves from there,” He amends, though not before he levels Anakin with a wry glance. 

The girl puffs out a breath, ruffling a few loose strands of hair. "You won't find much help here, then," she tuts with a shake of her head. "Unkar Plutt's the only junkboss around who you could possibly buy spare parts from, but it won't come cheap. Unless you have something he’d want in exchange, or a kriffload of credits, I don’t really see how Unkar’s going to be all that willing to help.”

“Trust me, we have our ways,” Anakin says with a wry grin. It takes all of Obi-Wan’s conscious effort not to pinch the bridge of his nose but he does spare his Padawan a reproachful glance all the same, all too aware of the girl’s bemused look at Anakin’s words. 

The girl narrows her eyes thoughtfully, head cocked to the side. “Can’t imagine what you’d be doing here, anyhow. Not much to do in Jakku, unless you’re part of the mining colony?” As she says this, she eyes their sparse clothing, as if trying to parse out more information about them from their attire alone. 

“Like we said, our ship malfunctioned. It isn’t like we’d be here of our own choice,” Anakin cuts in, much to the girl’s indignation. 

She harrumphs, clearly not amused by Anakin’s snappish response, but she still answers their question nonetheless. It’s the least she can do, she supposes, and she’d rather not feel like she’s indebted to them for helping her. “Well, if you’re looking for Unkar, he’s by the Concession stand over there.” She turns and points at the blockhouse in the distance. 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan cuts in before Anakin can say anything else in return, eyeing his Padawan from the corner of his eye. Anakin at least has the decency to look mildly apologetic when he meets his Master’s gaze. 

With a nod of farewell, Obi-Wan and Anakin make their way to the Concession stand. 


	3. Chapter 2

Rey stares after them, head cocked in contemplation. She doesn’t know why but the very air around those two off-worlders seem to hum with some unnamed energy — intangible but pressing down heavily on her shoulders like an invisible weight nonetheless. She’s only felt it like this once before, around the Graveyard of the Giants but it had gone as quickly as it had come. There have been other instances, sure, but it has never been as strong as it feels right now, and it leaves her feeling uneasy for reasons she can’t even begin to explain. 

This feeling in particular seems to linger though, especially around the younger one. A quiet hum of familiarity had settled deep in her bones when they had first met but then her eyes narrow at the memory of his attitude, and she scoffs. She quickly pushes those thoughts aside. They’ll be gone soon enough, so she didn’t need to be all that bothered. 

But in the end, it all depends on Unkar Plutt’s generosity. She snorts in wry amusement — it’d be easier to get a Toydarian to part from their money than to get Unkar to barter fairly with his collected parts. “ _We have our ways_ ”, indeed. For their sake, she hopes they do. 

Limping, Rey makes her way to the clean-up station. The sooner she cleans up the salvaged parts and gets them in working order, the sooner she could leave and nurse her wounds in the safety of her AT-AT. She has a feeling that it's going to be a long night. 

* * *

Years under the simmering heat of Jakku's sun has not done Unkar Plutt any favours. Jakku’s climate is possibly the farthest from Crul’s, and every day feels like a personal challenge to see how long he can last on this kriffing dustball. His skin is dry and sagging from years exposed to the unforgiving weather, and his face is seemingly stuck in a permanent grimace but what he may lack in charm, he certainly makes up for in cunning. 

He rules Niima Outpost with a firm grip that is backed up by the _right_ amounts of intimidation and extortion. There is little that he doesn’t know about the comings and goings of Niima Outpost. This is his home turf, and he doesn’t like to be caught unawares. 

So when two new faces walk up to his Concession stand, looking out of sorts than his usual fare of cocksure smugglers and the never ending stream of weary scavengers, Unkar Plutt is more than a little leery of them. He squints at them from behind his barred window, shuffling over to greet them properly. 

An older man, dressed in simple, rough-hewn tunics and a cloak stands before the counter, accompanied by a younger, surly looking boy dressed in a similar attire. 

“Are you Unkar Plutt?” The older one asks, his accent clipped and refined — _Coruscanti_ , Unkar identifies with some bemusement. He barely holds back a derisive snort — a _Coreworlder_ , all the way in _Jakku_? It was enough to make him more than a little suspicious. Those _Coreworlder_ snobs would never be caught this deep in the Western Reaches, not one with a lick of sense about them, anyways.

“That all depends on who’s looking for him,” Unkar throws right back, muzzle pulled back in a sneer. 

If the man is intimidated by Unkar, he certainly doesn’t show it but the younger one fidgets in place, eyes narrowed right back in challenge. _Heh_. It’s almost enough to make Unkar laugh — the boy’s like a scrappy little loth-pup puffing up in defence of its master.

The older one makes a calming gesture towards the younger one, and surprisingly, he does. The two share a significant look, something unspoken shared in their subtle expressions. Unkar narrows his eyes warily at that. 

“I was told that you’re the junkboss of these parts?” The older one asks after a beat, drawing Unkar’s attention back to him.

Unkar grunts inelegantly at the question. “I’m the _only_ junkboss in these parts,” he says, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “What’s it to you?”

“We’re in need of a flux capacitor, you see. The one on our ship malfunctioned, and until it’s fixed, I’m afraid we’re stranded here.” 

_Ah_. Business then. Unkar has no qualms with that. He leans forward, hands braced on the counter. “Say I did have a flux capacitor, what would I get out of it?”

“You’ll be compensated monetarily, of course,” the older one assures smoothly, reaching into his robes. He pulls out a credit chit and slides it across the counter. 

Unkar hums, suddenly feeling a little less reticent. He picks up the credit chit, smirking in anticipation but any feeling of goodwill is instantly dashed when he takes note that the credit chit he has in his hand is for Republic credits, of all things. He’s astounded by their audacity — Republic credits were next to worthless now. _What did these two Hutt-spawns think they were playing at?_

With a snarl, Unkar hurls the credit chit through one of the bars of his window but the older man deftly catches it in his hand, appearing to be rather taken aback by Unkar’s reaction. It only serves to fuel his anger.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Is this some sort of joke?” Unkar yells, spittle flying from his mouth. Some of the scavengers behind the two flinch in surprise and fear, murmuring quietly amongst themselves as they watch things unfold. The younger one peers at them over his shoulder, face pinched. When he turns to face Unkar once more, his expression is dark. 

“Beg your pardon?” The older one asks, furrowing his brows. 

Unkar points a threatening finger at them. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here, but if you want to do any sort of business with me, you should know I hate being made a fool of.”

The older man raises his hands placatingly, voice level as ever, “I assure you that that isn’t what I had intended. If you don’t accept Republic credits, we have other means of paying you.”

“Ha!” Unkar bellows, throwing his head back, jowls quivering. “You must be more sun-touched than I thought. If you fools think you can swindle me again, don’t think I’ll take that lying down!”

“He just said that if the credits were the problem, then we’d pay you with something else,” the boy cuts in harshly, pushing past the older man to come right up to the counter — the little loth-pup’s finally bared his fangs, how quaint. “What’s your price then?”

With a grunt, Unkar waves a dismissive hand in the boy’s direction. “Settle down, boy, let the adults handle the talking.”

The older man’s expression evens out, and he places a hand on the boy’s shoulder as if in anticipation of an outburst, subtly shaking his head. Unkar sees the older man’s hand tighten briefly on the boy’s shoulder when the boy surges forward with gritted teeth. “ _Anakin,_ that is enough,” Unkar hears the man whisper softly, but he doesn’t miss the commanding tone behind the words. 

The boy, Anakin apparently, exhales sharply through his nose, looking like a caged Reek for all the impatient shifting he was doing but he backs down nonetheless. 

Unkar throws the boy a nasty look that is instantly reciprocated — insolent thing that he was, Unkar isn’t even surprised. He peers at them both with narrowed eyes, even more unwelcoming than before. 

“Bring me something of value and we’ll see about finding you folks that flux capacitor.” Unkar’s tone brooks no argument. He’d like to see these two Hutt-spawns fool him then. If they actually had something useful to him, well, that’d be the end of that. Until then, he would not be swayed.

Anakin looks like he was ready to argue against Unkar’s terms but the older man swiftly stops him from voicing out his disagreement. Good. If Unkar heard one more peep from that boy, he’d kick them out of his Concession stand, possible business be damned. 

“Very well then, Mister Plutt,” the older one says affably. It makes Unkar’s skin crawl, how calm and composed this one was compared to the more volatile and outspoken companion of his. “We’ll return tomorrow and see about coming to an agreement.”

The older man turns, his cloak billowing out behind him. The scavengers behind the two part and give them a wide berth. “Come along, Anakin,” the man calls out to his companion. Anakin throws one last peeved look in Unkar’s direction before he moves to follow the man. 

_Good riddance,_ Unkar thinks with a scoff. Those two were probably more trouble than they were worth. 


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Do I know where I’m going with this? I’m going to be honest with you, buds, not really, no. But I am having fun and I figure that’s okay.**

* * *

Rey had heard the raised voices before anything else. Normally, that isn’t out of the ordinary considering the fact that Unkar was infamously known for having a short temper and was known for threatening his scavengers for the smallest slight but the Blobfish sounded downright _livid_. It’s certainly enough to shake her out of her single-minded focus, and she nearly drops the polishing brush as a result. The winds carry Unkar’s bellows over to their tent, loud as it is. The others in the clean-up station are also perking up in interest, casting furtive glances at the Concession stand. 

Against her better judgment, she finds herself curious. Tucking the last bit of her machinery into her net, she stands up and makes way for another scavenger to take her spot by the table, wincing as they clip her on the shoulder in their haste. With a deep breath, she plants her quarterstaff firmly into the sand, leaning most of her weight on her good foot as she does so. It’s with a lumbering gait that she makes her way to the long line leading to the Concession stand, pausing every once in a while to readjust the straps of the net slung across her shoulder. 

Rey shifts her weight slightly to the left, peering around Roodown’s towering form in front of her when the yelling picks up again. And _oh_.

It’s those off-worlders. 

Rey doesn’t know why but she isn't that surprised to see that the enigmatic off-worlders are the cause of all the commotion. She should have known when the boy had butted in her scuffle with Vuus, heedless of the danger it might have posed on his own well-being, that they weren’t afraid of causing a little ruckus — the boy in particular, it would seem. While she may still be smarting over the fact that the moof-milker had to step in to chase Vuus and his goon away, she doesn’t really wish the off-worlders any ill-will either.

Unkar wasn’t by any means pleasant, but he normally wasn’t too brusque with his potential customers, off-worlders especially since they’re the only ones who have the means to pay him with _actual_ credits. His scavengers, on the other hand. _Well_.

On Jakku, there is a certain order of things — as much as there can be on this lawless dustball, anyways — don’t overstep your boundaries and keep your head down, those were the golden rules all of the scavengers lived and breathed by. Asking questions and kicking up a fuss would only get you hurt, or worse. 

Rey supposes she’s lucky, in a twisted sense. She had long proven her worth to Unkar so as long as she continued to do her part as one of his _indentured_ scavengers, he would leave her alone. Others didn’t have that luxury. 

Unkar’s hired thugs are about as pleasant as a Hutt’s rear end, and if that Blobfish felt as if one of the other scavengers wasn’t bringing him as much yield, he would usually send his thugs to rough them up — a threat as much as it was an incentive. At that thought, her gaze flicks over to Roodown’s cybernetic arms. They whirred and whined each time the Abednedo would reach down to drag his sack of machine parts as the line slowly trudged along. There were rumours that Unkar was the reason behind Roodown’s injury, and nobody really had any reason to doubt the veracity of that. That’s how Unkar controls them, through fear. The bitter promise that something terrible awaited them should they anger him.

It wasn’t fair or just, but it was life. That’s just how it was on Jakku — an akk-eat-akk world.

Rey is suddenly startled out of her reverie when Roodown veers sharply to the left, stumbling over his feet as he does so. She’s only barely able to move out of his way before he could trample over her in his haste. “Hey!” She cries out, glaring up at him in irritation.

The Abednedo doesn’t seem to hear her though, he’s too busy staring at the off-worlders’ departing figures, something that looks suspiciously like awe in his glassy eyes. Deeper in the shade of the tent, Rey hears the excited whispers of the other scavengers — not a lot of people had the courage to stand up to Unkar, and certainly not as openly as that boy did. She doesn’t know whether to commend his bravery or to scoff at his impetuousness. 

Rey stares at them surreptitiously from the corner of her eye, just barely making out their whispered conversation as they pass by her. For a brief moment, the boy’s head perks up and they lock eyes, but just as quickly as it had happened, the boy glances away. She purses her lips, fist tightening around her staff. 

“It was absolute _rancorshit_ and you know it, Ma—”

“Be mindful of your words, Anakin.” The voice is smooth and cultured, the cadence similar to those hailing from Core worlds — such a strange thing to hear on a backwater planet like Jakku. “I think you’ve already said quite enough.”

“I’m just saying his reaction was rather over the top. I mean, what was that?”

“Hm, it was quite puzzling. I know some planets don’t accept Republic credits but that was—”

Rey doesn’t mean to make a verbal reaction at that but a bitten-off snort still manages to slip past her lips nonetheless. _Republic_ credits? Even lowlife smugglers knew better than to try and use Republic credits as a means of payment. If it was a scam, it was a poorly planned one. No wonder Unkar was all worked up. She could have sworn she saw that Blobfish frothing at the mouth when she had risked a peek into his Concession stand earlier. 

“ _What_?” The boy’s voice is sharp, and it jars Rey from her brief moment of distraction. She bristles reflexively at the dark look he throws her way but before she has a chance to snap back, the boy’s expression clears, a look of recognition lighting his eyes, and he clicks his tongue, “It’s you.” 

Rey straightens up as much as she is able with her bum ankle, lifting her chin haughtily. “Yes, _and_?”

Apparently her pithy tone doesn’t sit well with him because he narrows his eyes at her in suspicion. “Did you have something to say? It’s rude to listen in on conversations, you know.”

Rey flushes, eyes widening. He isn’t exactly wrong but she still feels embarrassed at having it pointed out so frankly. 

The boy’s companion makes an aborted move to massage his temples but then he visibly holds himself back, apparently thinking better of it. The man is obviously used to the boy’s more explosive outbursts, though he looks to be exhausted by it. “Anakin, do stop antagonising the locals.”

_Anakin_ glances back at the older man, a look of defiance twisting his features into something sour but a pointed look from the man has him relenting, and it’s quickly smoothed out and replaced with deference that actually does very little to mask the hard glint in his eyes. He nods wordlessly, posture tense. 

Rey frowns thoughtfully at the entire exchange. _Strange_ , she thinks to herself. A thought creeps into her mind but she quickly dismisses it — no master would be so lenient with a mouthy slave, especially not one as hot-headed and insolent as the boy, Anakin, apparently is. Something churns uncomfortably in her gut at the mere thought, and she fidgets guiltily. 

“Apologies,” the older man says with a slight bow in Rey’s direction, and the movement is practiced and graceful that she can’t help but stare. Who _are_ they? The longer she speaks to them, the more Rey is certain that they aren’t ordinary spacers. It’s a nagging, persistent thought, and she can’t even justify why she’s so sure of it but she _is_ and that vehemence unsettles her. 

Rey clears her throat, shaking her head as if to wave off his apology and her jumbled mess of thoughts. “It’s fine,” she shrugs dismissively. Then, almost as an afterthought, she mutters the second part mostly to herself, “No one’s really in their right state of mind after talking to Unkar anyways.”

Anakin must have heard her because the corner of his mouth twitches amusedly in a ghost of a smile, something that Rey doesn’t miss.

_What did she say_ this _time?_

She glances up at him, furrowing her brows. He meets her stare unflinchingly, as if daring her to comment. 

“Ahem,” the man clears his throat none-too-subtly. Rey and Anakin flick their gazes away from each other, both coming to the unspoken agreement to act like nothing had happened. The older man tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robes, looking thoughtful. “As _pleasant_ as this is, we really must get back to our ship before sundown. Good day to you, miss.”

Rey wrinkles her nose at the man’s formality, but she lifts her hand in a half-hearted wave nonetheless. Anakin might be a _wermo_ but she has met worse people, and he doesn’t seem outright malicious if a little tempestuous at times. And all things considered, the older man had been nothing but polite to her at least _,_ such an unusual thing to experience in a place like Niima Outpost where all kindness gets you is a vibroknife in the back. 

Almost as one, they both turn to head for the main gate, talking quietly amongst themselves once again. The dry winds whipped their cloaks behind them, and Rey catches a glint of something cylindrical hanging off of Anakin’s belt. But when she blinks, whatever it is, is hidden once more, tucked away in the folds of his cloak. She stares after them, a heaviness settling over her. She feels restless, like her inaction was causing her physical discomfort. 

Rey bites her lip, indecisive. Behind her, a Teedo chitters impatiently, stomping on the ground in their ire. Something about how she’s holding up the line. She swallows, looking off to the side before making up her mind. 

Oh, this was going to be a really, _really_ bad idea. 

“Hey!” She finally calls out, stepping out of the line. “Wait!” 

She forces herself to limp after them, ignoring the half-hysterical recriminations she’s aiming at herself. _What was she doing? What happened to keeping her head down_? 

Anakin is the one to turn in her direction first, frowning impatiently. He fidgets uncomfortably, looking like he was trying to shake the sand from his cloak. The older man is a little ways ahead before he slows to a stop as well. They stare at Rey curiously, and she straightens up self-consciously at their scrutiny. 

_A favour for a favour_ , she reassures herself. They helped her, or Anakin did at least, so now it was her turn to return the favour. Such was the way of the Jakku people. She had tried to tell herself that guiding them to Unkar was more than enough but something about it didn’t sit right with her. 

So here she is, about to stick her neck out for a pair of strangers. It’s as if all good sense has left her in that moment. She already knows Unkar won’t be pleased — would he punish her by limiting the rations he would trade for her salvaged parts? Would he turn his brutish thugs on her for a change? But it was too late to back out now, they were both looking at her, waiting to see what she had to say.

She takes in a fortifying breath, her grip tightening around her quarterstaff. “I thought it would be fair to warn you that your stunt only served to piss off Unkar. Whatever he expects of you in exchange for the flux capacitor won’t come cheap, not that it would have been cheap in the first place. But now that he has a bone to pick with the both of you, he’ll be even more unreasonable.” 

“The _stunt_ we pulled?” The man echoes, bewildered. He strokes a hand over his beard, furrowing his brows as he looks at her uncomprehendingly. “I’m afraid I do not understand. We offered to pay but if it was insufficient, all he had to do was tell us. Surely we could have had come to a different agreement.”

Rey stares at him, gobsmacked. He seems so sincere, too. She then flicks her gaze to Anakin, who seems to be just as lost as his companion is. Did they truly not know? What was going _on_ here?

She slowly shakes her head, feeling like she’s missing something important. “Republic credits are worthless. They’re about as useful as junk in any purchase,” she laughs incredulously, peering up at them to gauge their reactions. To see if understanding would creep into their expressions, or if they would fold and admit this was all some sort of ruse. It would have made a smidgen of sense, if only just. 

But they both merely exchanged confused glances, seemingly communicating with their expressions and significant looks alone. Finally, the man turns to her, head bowed slightly in thought. “Yes, Plutt has made that apparent earlier but I’m afraid we’re lost as to how that might have offended him. Surely his anger was unwarranted.”

Rey flicks her gaze from the older man to Anakin, then back again. They didn’t look to be con men, despite Unkar’s very vocal accusations declaring otherwise. There was a part of her that recoiled at the very idea, like the mere thought of it was absolutely unbelievable. So then _why_ —?

“No one’s used Republic credits in _decades_ ,” she explains slowly, disbelief laced in her tone. Where did these two come from, Wild Space? _Everybody_ knows that. “Even Imperial credits went out of circulation years ago.” 

They both go still as they take the time to process her words, and if it wasn’t for the subtle rise and fall of their chests, Rey would have thought they were carved from stone. Anakin fixes her with a gimlet eye, and Rey resists the urge to squirm under the weight of his gaze — it feels like his stern eyes are boring right into her very soul, picking her apart and finding her _lacking_. She exhales slowly, her expression hardening. 

“Decades, you say?” The man asks, his voice unsettlingly even. 

Rey stops short, already having doubts about helping them. Maybe they _were_ sun-touched.

“They stopped using Republic credits after the rise of the Empire,” she tells them matter-of-factly, face pinched in wary hesitation. She might not know the intricacies or specifics of Galactic history but even a youngling was aware of that. “As far as I know, nobody accepts Republic credits anymore.”

“ _Empire_?” Anakin suddenly cries out in confusion, whatever façade of calm he had been trying to maintain finally cracking under his distress. “What Empire?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note: I figured that Huttese was commonly spoken in Jakku since it was Niima the Hutt’s stronghold before, and it’s a common language used amongst traders. Besides, it’s so much fun to curse in Huttese. I’m going to use [this](%E2%80%9C) as my guide if I ever do use more Huttese words.
> 
> Wermo: Idiot, basically. Alternatively, it’s used as slang for _boy_.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this took so long to finish because I couldn't, for the life of me, get a handle on Anakin and Obi-Wan's characterisations. I guess that means that I need to re-watch the PT and ST to familiarise myself with their voices more. I'm not too happy with this chapter but ah well, c'est la vie.

* * *

What _ Empire? _ This was getting ridiculous. It was like they were all talking on different frequencies, two separate conversations going on at once with all parties involved lost and confused. 

“How can you not know about the Empire?” It’s the most pressing question she has at the moment, and she can’t help the incredulity that slips into her voice, unmistakable and accusing all at once. 

“You’ll have to pardon us, miss,” the older man smoothly interjects with a slight shake of his head, a thoughtful frown pursing his lips. He reaches a hand to stroke his beard absently. “I’m afraid we truly are unfamiliar with this Empire you speak of.”

Rey turns her head in his direction, staring at him consideringly. He looks like he could be old enough to have been born during the dawn of the New Republic’s establishment and while that would mean he wasn’t around during the height of Imperial rule, or at least old enough to remember it, surely his parents were. On the other hand, Anakin is young, perhaps only a year or two older than her, and while he would have had no personal experience with the horrors of the Empire’s crimes, that did not explain the depth of his shock and confusion — Rey had lived in relative solitude for most of her life, and she still knew enough about the Empire, more so than they did apparently. 

The most baffling thing she has noticed about their reactions is that it seems  _ genuine _ , Rey can gather that much. That actually leaves her feeling pretty puzzled herself. As far as she knows, there wasn’t a part of the galaxy that was left untouched by the turmoils of the Galactic Civil War. 

No matter how hard she tries to wrap her head around it, there really is no way of explaining their ignorance, not when the whole galaxy had been left reeling by the after-effects of the Empire’s brutal regime. Even now, years later, the ghost of the old Empire could still be felt, and seen, strongly in certain sectors of the galaxy — not even Jakku had been spared, the Graveyard of Giants could attest to that. There were even whispers of a new faction of Imperial loyalists — some even claiming that they were the remnants of the fallen Empire — calling themselves the First Order, and they were steadily rising in terms of power and infamy, bringing with them the threat of another bloody war.

It just doesn’t make any sense. The longer she talks to them, the more assured she is that she’s missing something vital, she just knows it but it lies beyond her grasp and that frustrates her to no end. 

“Look, we really don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Anakin insists vehemently when he picks up on Rey’s disbelief, taking a few steps closer to loom over her. He probably isn’t doing it intentionally but she was never one to back down from a challenge so she stays rooted in her spot and firms her stance. “You keep talking about it like it’s something we should know but you could be speaking in Twi’leki for all the sense you’re making.”

She tilts her head back to stare at him evenly, a prickle of  _ something _ shifting down her spine. “And how is that  _ my _ problem? Honestly,” she scoffs, one arm akimbo while her free hand clutches her staff. “I think you might have had one too many sips of Knockback Nectar if you’ve somehow managed to forget about the entire karking  _ Empire _ .”

Anakin looks so offended by her words but also like he can’t tell  _ why _ he should be offended in the first place. It would have been an amusing thing to witness on any other occasion but now she just silently fumes, thoughts clouded by irritation at his gall. 

His squares his shoulders and stands a little straighter, as if he was bracing himself for something. “Listen here,” he starts to say heatedly before he’s gently tugged back by the fabric of his tunic. 

The man, who probably had enough of them butting heads, swiftly steps between them. “For pity’s sake,” she hears him sigh under his breath, his tone put upon. Then he turns in her direction, lips pursed and his eyes wrought with emotion — it’s the first she’s seen him look agitated. “If you would just humour us for a moment, what  _ is _ the Empire?”

Rey clicks her tongue against her teeth, wryly wondering how long they could keep up this guileless act for. But as the minutes stretch on, a sinking feeling settles deep in her gut. “You’re serious,” she murmurs under her breath after a moment of carefully observing them, slowly shaking her head as the realisation dawns on her. “You’re both actually serious.”  _ Or you just think they are, _ a small, cautious part of her whispers. 

“ _ Please _ .” The man had spoken in that peculiar restrained way of his but Rey can feel an underlying sense of urgency in him that leaves her feeling disquieted. 

She could just walk away right now, wash her hands clean of this confusing mess. It could still be a con of some sort, but to what end is something she can’t find the answer to. Who would believe two  _ sleemos _ when they claim they have no idea what the Empire was anyways? Not anyone with their head screwed on straight, that’s who. It just doesn’t make any sense, none of it does. But something compels her to stay, to take what they’re saying at face value, as unbelievable as it all may seem. 

Rey exhales sharply through gritted teeth as she clenches her eyes shut in resignation, decision made. She blinks them open and then casts a furtive glance around them, hyper aware of the ebb and flow of the beings going about their business. Niima Outpost might be a relatively small settlement but it still saw more than its fair share of disreputable beings. Jakku was the perfect place for people to disappear off the grid after all, and that included people with questionable pasts. She’d rather not have anyone overhear them, not when she’s talking about something as unpleasant as the Empire’s sordid history. She’s already going to be in so much banthashit for helping out the people Unkar had singled out as nuisances, she doesn’t want to make her situation worse. 

She nods her head to a ramshackle tent not too far from where they’re standing, indicating that they follow her. She limps on ahead with as much dignity as she can muster, holding back a grimace each time she takes a step forward with her injured foot. Damned Klerggo and his thrice damned steel-toed boots. And damn Vuus too, just for good measure.

When she notices that neither one of them have made the move to follow her, she steadies herself and looks at them over her shoulder. “Well?” She points at the tent with the end of her quarterstaff. 

Rey half-expects Anakin to protest what is clearly an order from her but surprisingly, after another hard, long stare, he acquiesces with a shrug that he aims at the older man. The man makes the move to follow her, and Anakin trails half a step behind him. Rey still can’t help but find that a little odd, and even if her earlier assumption about their relationship was wrong that doesn’t exactly explain this _ compliance _ .

The man looks outwardly composed but she still senses a strange stirring of unease from him that juxtaposes his impeccable sabacc face. He slips his hands into the sleeves of his robes, ever the picture of unflappable serenity. “Is there a reason for the secrecy?”

“Listen, this isn’t something you want to broadcast to every person in the Outpost, okay? The Empire might be gone but it still has its supporters, even to this day,” Rey supplies, mindful to keep her voice low. “It’s strange enough that you two have supposedly never heard of it, you wouldn’t want to draw attention to yourselves. Well, more so than you already have, that is.”

Taking the time to mull over her words, the man withdraws into himself. At length, the tension coiled around his shoulders loosens and he nods his head agreeably. “Very well then, lead the way.”

* * *

Rey pushes the flap of the tent aside before ducking inside. In the center of the tent is a shoddily wielded-together bar counter made from leftover scraps of durasteel. It isn’t much of a cantina but it serves its purpose. With the choices of alcoholic beverages, limited though they might be, brought in from Cratertown, this is where Unkar’s thugs come to wind down after a day of terrorising, and funnily enough, this is also where Constable Zuvio’s militia men come to drink. There’s an unspoken rule here that anything that happens beneath the tent’s roof stays beneath the tent’s roof. It’s the closest thing to privacy Rey can think of at the moment. 

She finds an empty table in the shade and sits down, glad to be off her feet. She places her net beside her, wincing when she realises that she never had the time to trade in the parts for rations. What was wrong with her today? First, she let Vuus and Klerggo get the drop on her when she should have been able to handle them, and now she was going out of her way to help two strangers because of a  _ gut _ feeling? Star’s end, she needs to get a grip. 

Her spiralling thoughts come to a screeching halt when the two men drop down onto the seats across from her, staring at her expectantly.  _ ‘Well _ ?’ They both seem to say.

Rey bites the inside of her cheek, trying to recall as much as she possibly could about the Empire — bits and pieces of could-be truths that had been the foundation of her understanding of the outside world during her formative years. Spacers loved to talk, and when they did, it almost always revolved around the Galactic Civil War. “I don’t know how much you actually know about the Empire—”

“Try nothing at all,” Anakin cuts in, expression grim. 

Rey levels him with a flat look, unamused by his interruption. She then leans in a little closer to the center of the table, voice barely louder than a murmur, “ _ But  _ anyone will tell you that they had absolute control over a countless number of star systems. There weren’t a lot of planets that didn’t at least have some sort of Imperial presence in their local governments. Even planets from Hutt Space dealt with the Empire on occasion.” 

The man looks disconcerted by Rey’s words, leaning back against his chair as he takes a minute to digest the new information. For once, even Anakin doesn’t seem to have a snippy retort. She takes their silence as her cue to continue. 

“It was absolute hell — anyone who openly opposed the Empire would disappear under  _ mysterious _ circumstances, the reports on the HoloNet News were nothing but propaganda and half-arsed lies, that sort of thing. You either publicly pledged your allegiance to the Empire or you risked being considered the enemy.”

“What happened to the Republic? I assume, from what you have told us thus far, that it was supplanted and replaced by the Empire.” The man glances up at her, an intensity in his gaze that has her fighting back the urge to fidget uncomfortably. 

Rey squints her eyes in thought, unfamiliar with the word he just used but she gathers the meaning in context of his previous question. Nonetheless, she draws a blank. Everything she actually knows about the Empire in the first place were things she learned from the off-worlders and old-timers whose lips were a little looser after a cup or two of Jawa Juice, unable to resist reliving their glory days, but it was hard to parse the truth from their wild exaggerations anyways. “I’m not a historian, alright. I don’t know all the details,” she argues with a brisk shake of her head. 

Of all the times she decided to be helpful, it just so happens to bring these two strange off-worlders her way. This is what she gets for sticking her nose in other people’s business, really. But she eventually softens, just minutely, when she takes note of their distress — the man is hiding it better than Anakin is but it  _ is _ unmistakable, if you knew how to look for it. She sighs, shoulders sagging. 

“Something bad happened, alright? Short answer is, yes, the old Galactic Republic’s gone, it has been for a long while now but beyond that, I  _ really _ don’t know much. It’s because, well, a lot of information dating back to pre-Empire was wiped out so the whole truth of it is a little muddled.” Rey shrugs, picking at the rust on the table. “Besides, I don’t know about you but Jakku doesn’t really put that much importance in keeping up to date with Galactic history so I’m really the worst person to ask. Not that a lot of people here would be much help answering most of your questions anyways.” 

It wasn’t much, she knew, but it was better than nothing. Other beings on Jakku might not appreciate their line of questioning. It was one thing for a youngling to be curious about the bygones, and another thing entirely for two seemingly competent men to be asking questions about events that everyone in the greater part of the galaxy should know about. Unkar would likely have a conniption fit if he caught wind of this, ready to sling accusations like a cocked slugthrower. 

At her words, the two fall silent. Anakin looks openly stricken for some unfathomable reason, his face going through a myriad of emotions before it eventually morphs into a dark look. He looks ready to say something when something physically stops him, in this case, it’s the man’s hand on his upper arm. He is once again wearing that infuriating sabacc face of his, unheeding of Anakin, who looks rather mutinous himself. 

“What more can you tell us about the Empire? Anything at all would help,” he quickly assures her when he sees her part her lips to repeat her spiel about her limited knowledge. Wherever they must come from must be really backwater, more so than Jakku, if they really didn’t know shavit. Maybe they were like the anchorites who roamed the Plaintive Hand plateau, cutting themselves off from society as decreed by their mandate. 

With a click of her tongue, she acquiesces. “Alright, fine. I’m not too sure about the specifics but they say that while the Emperor was a steaming pile of banthacrap, no one could compare to the terror that his right hand man unleashed.” Rey doesn’t like to think of herself as terribly superstitious but at the mere mention of that  _ monster _ , something cold and clammy settles over her. 

“And who was this  _ right hand man _ ?” Anakin demands, looking equally perturbed. The man doesn’t pause to admonish Anakin for his curt behaviour, as he had done previously. No, he’s focused on her as well, awaiting her answer with an unsettling focus. 

Rey risks another peek around her, but for some reason, the voices of the cantina’s other patrons seem to be muffled and faraway. “Darth Vader,” she mutters into the thick silence, desperately trying to keep her voice from trembling. It has been decades since his demise but the legacy of his merciless reign of terror is still whispered in the darkness of night like some particularly ominous ghost story, a nightmarish blight in the annals of history that cannot be wiped away. 

What happens next is something Rey can’t even come up with an explanation for because she feels a sudden spike of agitation and surprise so acutely that it renders her breathless for one terrifying moment. She blinks sluggishly, feeling a buzz beneath her skin, a heaviness that pervades her mind. Her face scrunches in discomfort as she experiences a whirlwind of strong emotions that she knows  _ can’t _ be hers. But as suddenly as it had happened, the foreign feelings slink away and it’s almost as if nothing was amiss in the first place. 

She lets out a staggered breath, releasing her tight grip on the edge of the table — she had not even realised she had done it in the first place. 

“A new Sith?” She overhears Anakin hiss sharply to the older man, who motions for him to lower his voice with a wave of his hand. But Anakin is clearly too far gone, as he steams ahead with a frantic mutter of, “How is that possible? I thought you killed the Sith back on Naboo? Could this be the—”

“Peace, Anakin,” the man entreats as he places a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if to reel him back. He nods pointedly in Rey’s direction, an action so subtle that she would have missed it entirely if she wasn’t already watching them shrewdly.

Alright, enough was enough. She purses her lips and whispers vehemently, “What’s a Sith?”

In the same breath, Anakin asks, “Where were the Jedi during all of this?”

Anakin and Rey’s questions tangle together in a riotous clash of noise, and they both glower at each other from across the table once the clamour of their voices dies down. But as she slowly goes over his question, she picks up on something that only further mystifies her — he mentioned the Jedi like they were an actual historical fact rather than the mystical heroes from far-off legends like she was always lead to believe. 

It seems that the mystery surrounding them just keeps on piling up, and with no resolute answer before her, Rey is stumped. Just what has she gotten herself into?

“ _ Jedi _ ?” Rey echoes, unable to bite back the bubble of laughter that slips past her lips. 

“Is there something funny?” Anakin frowns, tapping his fingers on the tabletop in a steady, staccato rhythm, at odds with the mercurial flash of his eyes. 

She juts out her chin, squaring her shoulders. “The Jedi are a myth.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits out in indignation but beneath the veneer of anger, Rey sees a sliver of dread laid bare in the taut lines of his young face. 

The man spares a beseeching glance at the roof of the tent, a look that is lost on his two younger companions seeing as they’re too busy trying to glare the other into submission.

“I know more than you, apparently,” she throws back heatedly, quirking a brow archly. “Next thing I know, you’ll be trying to tell me that starbirds are real.”

Anakin’s own brow shoots up, as if in shock at her audacity. 

“If you both are quite done,” the man’s clipped voice cuts in before their argument has a chance to escalate. He sighs, briefly massaging his temple before he sits up straight, turning to address Rey. 

Before he has a chance to say anything else, Rey shakes her head in refusal. She’s been pretty cooperative, keeping her reservations to herself but there was only so much she could take before her self-preservation came rearing back, gut feeling or no gut feeling.  “I’ve answered your other questions, now it’s only fair that you answer mine,” Rey states firmly with a slight tap of her hand on the table, unease blossoming in her chest. She feels like she’s standing on the precipice of uncovering something important, the same pull in her gut when she first met them now roiling restlessly inside her. 

They share another significant look, and honestly Rey is getting tired of their secrecy even if, distantly, she can understand their trepidation. She is still a stranger to them both after all. A  _ nobody _ .

“It is of no concern to you, my dear, don’t worry,” the man assures her, a peculiar lilt in his voice. Beneath the table, his swiftly moves his middle and forefinger in an arch, just out Rey’s line of sight. It was meant to be a deterrent, a gentle pulse in the Force to steer her clear from prying too much.

With a start, she feels a sudden fuzziness in her head, like it’s been stuffed full of cotton. She furrows her brows at the unfamiliar feeling but it only lasts for about a second or two before it disappears altogether. Her eyes snap up and she scowls. Why were they being evasive with her question? 

“No,” she insists with a sharp shake of her head, “I’ve had the courtesy to answer your questions, as ridiculous as they were. So tell me, what’s a Sith?”

Clearly, something she did startled him because he was staring at her with those sharp eyes. Eventually, his firm expression melts into something more personable. “A discussion for a later date, I’m afraid. This isn’t exactly the safest place to have this conversation, if what you’ve said is to be believed.”

Rey twitches at the fact that they both left her question unanswered. Clearly, she was not going to be getting any more out of them about that particular subject. At least not at the moment. 

“I’m afraid we never had the chance to get your name,” the older man says, apropos of nothing, his steel-eyed gaze still focused on her. 

In light of everything else, it had honestly slipped her mind. She has only learned of the Anakin’s name by chance but the older man’s name is still unknown to her. It seems like she’s making all sorts of naive mistakes today. 

Rey sucks in an uneven breath, mentally going over her choices. In the end, she figures that she has nothing to lose even if she  _ did _ give her name. She’s just another scavenger on a junkyard planet, one in a thousand of other beings. “Rey,” she finally relents with a gusty sigh. “I’m Rey.”

“I am Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man, Obi-Wan, says with a slight nod. He then gestures to Anakin with a measured flick of his wrist, “And this is Anakin Skywalker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey, dear sweet Rey, if you only knew just how much personal experience Anakin had with the horrors of the Empire. In all honesty though, god help me, I don't know where I'm going with this but I'll be damned sure that I have fun while I'm at it.
> 
> If you ever wanna talk about Anirey or SW, you're more than welcome to hit me up over @ my Tumblr: [zuckershrugs](https://zuckershrugs.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** **MY GOD, I am back!!**
> 
> **Not gonna lie, I had kinda lost the motivation and inspiration for this fic, but my love for Anirey really helped me finish this current chapter at the very least. So here we are. I haven't had the chance to proof-read it, I had finished it really late last night but ah, well.**
> 
> **Not really happy with how this came out but I don't want to keep re-editing it indefinitely so here we are.**

* * *

The air is thick with tension and Obi-Wan would be a fool to miss the way the girl, Rey, is all but poised to bolt out of her seat at the slightest hint of trouble. He tries to exude dispassionate calm in hopes of assuaging her misgivings but she still looks rather unsure, muscles coiled like a particularly agitated nexu — one that was seconds away from lashing out, claws unsheathed and teeth bared. 

None of what they had discussed had cleared much of, well, _anything_. In fact, it had merely opened the doors for more questions, questions that Rey is either hesitant to answer or is genuinely clueless about. Obi-Wan is inclined to believe the latter — there isn’t an air of purposeful deceit clouding the girl, and she seems just as perplexed about them as they are with her. 

Thankfully, some of the earlier friction between his Padawan and the girl has calmed to a more manageable degree, or at the very least has been set aside in the face of larger issues than some petty squabbling between two irritable teenagers. 

It's no doubt Rey must have picked up on the unease that is hanging heavily in the air, as she has quietly retreated into herself to simply observe them. Even Anakin, for all his bouts of impulsiveness, is still diligent in his duties as his Padawan, and everything Rey has said — about the fall of the Republic, this insidious Empire and the apparent lack of the Jedi’s involvement in _any_ of her narrative — has clearly shaken him to his core. 

The boy has withdrawn behind his default blank and placid Jedi mien, though Obi-Wan had clearly felt a tremulous wave of disbelief and grief pouring through their bond before his Padawan had hastily locked his emotions away behind his durasteel mental shields. For a sliver of a moment, Anakin meets Obi-Wan’s eyes, brows furrowing. He doesn’t have to say anything, Obi-Wan understands. _Can we trust her_?

Obi-Wan sends an affirmative through their bond, lips pressed in a thin line. Anakin heaves a tremulous sigh, eyes slipping closed as if in mournful prayer. Deep down, he knows his Padawan has probably pieced the truth together himself but given the enormity of it all, he was probably clinging on to some sort of feeble hope.

By the Force did this thin, slip of a girl give them a _lot_ to ponder over. It would have been so much easier to take her words for the wild ravings of a half-mad, half-starved scavenger but the Force rang with the agonising truth of her words. By the tightness around Anakin’s eyes and the firm set of his mouth, Obi-Wan just knows that his Padawan is still coming to grips with their new reality. As a matter of fact, he is too, and it takes all his hard-earned discipline to calm his own riotous thoughts just enough for him to really _think_. With practiced ease, he releases his doubts and the oily, slick pulses of fear into the Force, counting his breaths in steady beats until he feels a little bit more like himself again. 

In, one two. 

Out, one two.

It goes on in that manner for a tense moment or two, the three of them silently regarding the other as they take the time to sift through their own thoughts. 

Unexpectedly, it’s Rey who breaks the uneasy silence, eyes guarded as she surveys them in thoughtful consideration. “So, does that clear things up?” Her lips purse, and even then she looks unsure. 

Though the girl might not understand the true upheaval her revelations have just caused, she can undoubtedly pick up just enough of it because it's no doubt that Anakin and Obi-Wan make quite a tense picture, with their rigid postures and blank expressions.

“In a way, I suppose it does,” Obi-Wan replies evenly, leaning back into his chair as the weight of Rey’s words seem to truly sink in. The whole picture might still be out of focus so to speak, but at the very least they weren’t totally blindsided by their own ignorance. Still, it was a lot to digest in an especially short amount of time. 

Rey squints her eyes but offers no further comment, keeping her suspicions to herself it would seem. Obi-Wan is no fool, he knows how unbelievable it must seem that they’re so completely and utterly clueless about such a historic moment — a karking _civil war_ , of all things. 

If it was true, all of it, just how far had the Republic fallen? Where had the Jedi Order failed? Was this the Separatists' doing? He has heard the whispers and rumours of violent skirmishes in the Mid and Outer Rims where the Separatists were supposedly involved — apparently the invasion of Naboo was not an isolated incident, merely a catalyst. Hm, more things to meditate over once they make the trek back to their ship. 

Speaking of, Obi-Wan spares a glance through the sliver of space between the tent’s flaps, catching sight of the thin golden beam of light laid bare on the sandy floor. They had best make their way back before sundown. He might not be a desert-native like Anakin is, but even he knows how dangerous it would be to travel under the cover of complete darkness. 

They might not have gotten the ship components they had intended to buy, but that did not mean they were going back truly empty-handed either. Force give him strength, Obi-Wan doesn't have a clue where to start with all the information they've just been given. He can already feel the start of what promises to be a truly potent headache pulsing between his temples the more his thoughts linger on the whole mess. 

Heaving a sigh, Obi-Wan moves to stand and Anakin follows suit, uncharacteristically quiet and contemplative. Rey tracks their movements with flinty eyes, ever watchful.

"Well, this has been enlightening," Obi-Wan says glibly, his tone deceptively light all things considered. It draws a muffled snort from Anakin and a bemused arch of her brow from Rey. “But we best head back to our ship in the meantime. We appreciate you answering our questions, young Rey.”

She bites her lip, looking down at the table for a heartbeat before lifting her chin and levelling them with a cool look. "I don't really know what either of your stories are, and I might not be privy to them either but—" Here, she pauses, clearly rallying herself. “But watch yourselves. Wherever you’re from must be kriffing sheltered if you're unaware of pretty much _everything_ . Even old Kier knows more than you two, and she rarely ever leaves her little encampment past the Badlands. I’d hate to see you say one wrong thing and get mobbed faster than you can even say ‘ _R’iia’s shorts_.’” 

“Well, we can handle ourselves just fine,” Anakin chuffs from over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, breaking his self-imposed silence, but his words lack any real heat behind them. 

Unexpectedly, this draws a small smile from the girl, and she shakes her head. “So you’ve said,” she hums good-naturedly, rising in slow, deliberate movements as she braces her weight on her good foot. 

* * *

They walk in silence, making their way back out into the dry, crackling heat of the afternoon sun. 

The girl places her hand over her eyes, squinting against the harsh light. “So you’re going back to your ship, I reckon? I hope it has some decent security systems because there are a lot of marauders and the occasional Teedo who’d look at your ship, and they wouldn’t hesitate to take it apart to sell for scraps,” she cautions, turning her head to address them. “I don’t know the model or make of your ship but if it has viable parts, you can bet there’ll be someone looking to make some credits off of it.”

By the sun and the stars, Obi-Wan can’t believe they had forgotten something as _basic_ as that. In the heat of the dogfight and the urgency of their hasty emergency landing, it had honestly slipped his mind. Getting the flux capacitor had been their first priority, but then the whole mess had happened and here they were, possibly transport-less if the girl’s warnings had come to fruition. 

Behind Obi-Wan, Anakin stiffens in consternation. “Sithspit,” he mutters under his breath, apparently coming to the same realisation that Obi-Wan has. 

Rey blinks at the outdated oath, momentarily caught off guard. Then, slowly, as if in disbelief, she ventures, “Don’t tell me—”

“There were more pressing concerns at the moment,” Anakin interjects, though the embarrassed flush belied the forceful tone of his voice. 

_Here we go,_ Obi-Wan thinks to himself in resignation. 

“More pressing than thinking of ways to ensure that your ship _doesn’t_ get hijacked? Forget about the missing component you needed, you might as well try to bargain for a whole new ship now,” Rey scoffs, lowering her arm back to her side. 

It speaks of the level of embarrassment Anakin must be feeling when he doesn’t even offer up a rebuttal at that. He merely groans, reaching up with one hand to scratch at the back of his head.

 _If it’s not one thing, it’s another_ , Obi-Wan echoes his earlier sentiment, the heat doing absolutely nothing to his already flimsi-thin patience.

Ever perceptive, Rey seems to pick up on their irritation and desperation once again. Her shoulders move with the gentle exhale of her sigh. “I don’t know if it’ll bode well for your ship if you wait any longer, but it won’t be safe to make two trips either, especially since sundown is just around the corner. There’s a tent not too far from the Unkar’s concession stand, it’s where some of the scavengers stay when they can’t make it to their own encampments before nightfall. It’s not the Canto Casino Hotel but the accommodations are free, and it’s better than nothing,” she suggests, biting the inside of her cheek as her gaze flickers between Anakin and himself. 

First impressions aside, Obi-Wan is surprised to find Rey to be more sympathetic than she had originally let on. All things considered, she had been nothing short of patient with them, even with their roundabout ways of explaining their ignorance. And while she might have occasionally goaded Anakin but then again, his Padawan’s pride is a force to be reckoned with at times. He knows from personal experience, after all. 

Obi-Wan gentles his expression into something more appropriately grateful. “Thank you,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “We truly are sorry for having bothered you for this long. I’m sure you have your own matters to attend to.”

Rey waves him off with a brisk wave of her hand, looking discomfited by Obi-Wan’s gratitude. “So karking polite,” she remarks softly, but something tells Obi-Wan that she had probably not meant to say that aloud if her momentary look of panic is any indication, but it’s gone in a flash, like the flicker of a mirage. “If you weren’t so completely clueless, I’d wager you were both from one of the Core worlds, with your fancy manners and all.”

Instead of answering her, Obi-Wan and Anakin share another brief glance before Obi-Wan gives her a wan smile. 

“In any case, I’d steer clear of Unkar in the meantime if I were you. He knows how to hold a grudge, and if you want a way out of here, you either barter for passage with one of the supply ships or you make _nice_ with him. He’s the only one planetside who has the resources — he has a chokehold of all the usable components.” It looks like it physically pained the girl to say those words. Whatever her relationship with the Crolute is, there is clearly no love lost between them. 

“We’ll keep that in mind the next time we talk to him, thank you,” Anakin replies before Obi-Wan has the chance to, and surprisingly the boy sounds completely sincere, too. It’s the first overture of goodwill he’s initiated himself and it’s throwing Rey for a loop because she looks comically startled. 

Rey catches herself before the silence can stretch on into something awkward. She nods curtly at them, hefting her net of rusted parts higher up her shoulder. “Alright, well,” she starts, “Remember what I said. Watch yourselves, off-worlders.” 

With a small, stilted smile of goodbye, she turns on her heel and heads off further into the outpost. Despite her farewell being phrased vaguely like a threat, there’s a hint of concern in the slant of her brows and the purse of her lips, and despite himself Obi-Wan is moved — they’re merely acquaintances, after all, if that. She had no obligations to either of them but she had still gone out of her way to help in whatever manner she could. 

“That was...something,” Anakin says once Rey has made it a ways away from where they still stood. 

Obi-Wan absently strokes his chin, begrudgingly amused by Anakin’s droll tone. “An understatement, to be sure, Anakin. Now come along, it seems we’ll be here a little longer than we had originally planned.”

Almost immediately, Anakin’s good mood sours at the reminder of their predicament. Nonetheless, his Padawan nods resolutely and dutifully follows after Obi-Wan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** **Boys, you really should know better than to leave your ship pretty unguarded. I had the idea when I watched the Mandalorian, episode 2 in particular with the Jawas. Say goodbye to your lovely star-yacht, you poor fools.**
> 
> **Also, Rey, honey, that's not how you make friends. Though to be fair, she's lived pretty much by herself for so long that her people skills are a little _rusty_. A+ for effort though.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: I am???? Trying so hard to stay inspired but really, my inspiration for this just comes and goes. I'm not that happy with this chapter either but I have to post it eventually, so voila. I really gotta remind myself that this fic was, at its core, a self-indulgent thing. **
> 
> **Aside from that though, thank you so much to the readers and the people who left comments and kudos! I adore every single one of you! I never would've thought that there'd be this much enthusiasm for this story but here you all are!**
> 
> **Oh! And a big shout out to[Mad08](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad08) for helping me flesh out this chapter and correcting what needed to be fixed. **
> 
> **Also, stay safe, everyone!**

* * *

In the end, Anakin and Obi-Wan make the decision to stay in Niima Outpost for the night. It would have been too much of a risk to go looking for their ship with it being so close to sundown. They probably wouldn't have made it back without someone or  _ something _ accosting them on their way back to the Outpost. 

Local wildlife and marauders are just some of the things they have to worry about. If what Rey had hinted at was true, then Unkar probably has his beady eyes set on them as well. 

Anakin knows his type, he's seen them all over Tatooine before. Beings who had too much credits and manpower to spare, who weren't above terrorising people into submission if that's what it took. He'd have to keep an eye out for any sort of retaliation from the Crolute. If there was another thing that Unkar had in common with the scum from Tatooine, it was his hair-trigger temper, anything could set him off.

It's best that they lie low for a while and get some much needed rest, a brief moment of respite to allow them a chance to regroup their thoughts. Well. As much as they can after such an eventful day, in any case. 

The tent Rey had suggested they check out is a squat little thing made of sturdy synthcotton fabric that has clearly seen better days. Inside, there are two rows of sleeping pallets with an empty, narrow aisle in the middle for them to walk through. Nearly half the pallets are occupied but the ones furthest from the entrance are mercifully vacant. They pick two pallets on the left side of the tent, in clear view of the entrance but still close enough to the back should they need a hasty exit.

In the shade of the low canopy of the tent, they both slip out of their cloaks. But not before they’ve unclipped their lightsabers from their belts. Anakin stashes his lightsaber into the voluminous depths of his folded cloak, keeping the bundle close at hand. Then he goes about unbuckling his boots and setting it to the side once he has managed to slip them off. Obi-Wan does the same, his movements stiff and distracted. 

It’s dark enough and thankfully there are a few empty pallets between them and those that  _ are _ occupied that no one really pays them any mind, save for a few brave souls who turn their heads in their direction none too discreetly, sizing them up. 

Still, this is very little they can talk about presently considering the place they’re in now — too many people packed together and not enough space. They cannot risk being overheard, especially not with what they're supposed to be discussing. 

Besides, the stress of the day is clearly getting to them both. All the words left unspoken between them eat away at Anakin, the enormity of their discovery rendering him shell-shocked and listless.

Even Obi-Wan looks a little worn around the edges. His normally unflappable Master has a pinched look about him, a deep furrow between his brows. Not that Anakin can really speak much for himself either. He knows he must look on edge, if the wary and nervous looks a handful of scavengers are giving him are any indication. 

"Get some rest, Anakin," Obi-Wan murmurs after a beat, half of his face engulfed in shadows. 

Anakin’s head snaps up at that, his head still swirling with half-finished thoughts. “M—“ he starts to say before he physically stops himself, accidentally gnashing his teeth in haste to stop himself from blurting out Obi-Wan's customary title. Now isn’t the best time to refer to Obi-Wan by his rank. Given their current situation and the place they’re in, it can be taken out of context. 

“Uh, Obi-Wan. I’m fine, I can stay up, too," Anakin insists, sitting up a little straighter as if to prove his point. "I'm honestly not that tired."

Obi-Wan’s expression softens infinitesimally. "No, it’s quite alright," his Master dismisses his concern with a slight shake of his head. Then, with a teasing lilt in his voice, he adds, “Though I beg to differ. You look rather dead on your feet, young one. I'll take the first watch." 

When he notices Anakin’s reluctance, he reaches across the small division between their pallets and claps a gentle hand on his shoulder. “ _ Sleep _ , Anakin. I’ll meditate, perhaps I'll even get some clarity on our situation.” 

Anakin still thinks his Master needs to rest more than he does. Frankly, the man looks  _ exhausted _ . But there's no getting through to Obi-Wan once he has his mind set on something. 

In the end, he gives a quiet sigh of acquiescence and stretches out on the pallet. He's a bit too tall for it and his legs stretch out beyond the edge. He has to bend his knees so that his feet don't block the way for the other scavengers who are still milling about, their voices a quiet murmur in the background.

From the corner of his eye, Anakin sees Obi-Wan settle himself as he crosses his legs, his steepled hands placed on his lap. His tense expression slowly melts into something Anakin is more familiar with. In repose, Obi-Wan looks a smidgen more relaxed, the tension bleeding away from his body with each steady, prolonged breath. 

It's nothing short of impressive really, how instinctive it is for Obi-Wan to lose himself to the ebb and flow of the Force, readily drifting along its currents as if he were buoyed by the Light. A small, poisonous part of Anakin can't help but envy him for it but no sooner had that thought manifested itself than he is quick to quash it.

They need to be unified in this. And distractions like his petty jealousy would serve no purpose in getting them home.

_ If they can still go home that is _ , another part of him hisses, giving voice to one of his fears.

Anakin grunts, willing the thoughts away. He grapples for some peace of mind, but it's a fruitless endeavour. His pallet is a lumpy thing and it takes Anakin several moments of shifting and squirming to find a more comfortable position. Though he _is_ willing to admit that compared to some of the places they've slept in during their other missions in the past, this might as well be a bed fit for Alderaanian royalty. 

Eventually he is able to settle down, an arm curled beneath his head. For a moment, he thinks that he’s simply too wired to fall asleep but in between this breath and the next, he finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open. He blinks sluggishly each time they stay closed for longer than a second, and Obi-Wan's shadowed silhouette before him blurs in and out of focus. 

After a few more moments of this, Anakin finally surrenders to the bone-deep exhaustion that he had been fighting off the entire day. 

As he straddles the thin line between sleep and wakefulness, his thoughts wander in quick, disjointed turns. They don't take up any true form, just impressions and echoes — fleeting bursts of emotion and snippets of conversations cycling through his subconscious. 

Eventually, he finds his thoughts settling on the taciturn scavenger girl, Rey.

Anakin remembers the stubborn tilt of her chin, the fire that burned steady and bright in her eyes. Something distant, muted, calling out to him. Familiar in a way that confuses him but he is too unfocused to linger on that train of thought for much longer. Soon enough, his thoughts fade to a hush. 

He hovers in that quiet in-between for a while longer, the background noise around him nothing more than garbled nonsense at this point.

Just before sleep truly lays claim to him, he feels a tendril of a foreign presence brush against his shields, light enough that he almost misses it entirely. Before Anakin can stretch his senses out to investigate, it slinks away, leaving behind an impression of something cold and slimy clinging to the periphery of his shields.

A chuckle echoes softly in his mind.  _ Interesting _ , it croons, its voice alarmingly familiar.  _ Interesting indeed _ . 

That is the last coherent thing Anakin remembers before darkness overtakes his senses.

* * *

The day starts off like the ones that have come before it - uneventful and unremarkable, the lingering chill of the evening still present in the air as the sun starts its slow crawl up the sky. 

Rey wakes up tangled in her hammock to the gentle hum of the air filter in the background, filling the empty space of the otherwise quiet room. She moves stiffly, her limbs a little sore from her  _ encounter _ with Vuus but thankfully her ankle wasn’t that much of a problem anymore. Oh, it had been sprained alright, but Rey had sacrificed one of her few precious healing stims to speed up the recovery process. It was a small price to pay for her distraction, a bum ankle was as good as a death sentence for her.

Unkar is not a big believer in giving hand-outs, even to his most efficient scavenger. If she can't provide for herself, then she can suffer in quiet agony as far as he's concerned. 

Distantly, she wonders if the off-worlders are doing alright but that thought is quickly pushed aside in light of more important matters like breakfast, for one. She has a few portions stashed in the little nooks and crannies of her  _ home _ . As much as a renovated AT-AT can be anyways. 

But even with rationing, she only has enough to go on for three more days, maybe four if she really pushes it. Her salvage from yesterday’s scavenging could have given her two more portions but then, well. Everything had happened in such quick succession that it’s mostly a blur now. She supposes she should feel cheated - indignant even - that because she dared to associate with the two off-worlders who had had the misfortune of pissing Unkar off, she ended up slighting the Crolute in turn, even if was in the most roundabout way. But the most she feels is resigned acceptance.

If she had limped her way to his Concession stand, he probably would have given her a single quarter portion, if anything at all. Unkar is petty like that, that miserly Blobfish. 

It’s foolish, now that she has had more time and perspective to go over her actions. She had moved, almost instinctively, like a woman possessed and helped them above and beyond what she had originally intended.

And though a part of her can’t help but feel unnerved by her own determination to help them, and in front of so many witnesses who would have gladly reported back to Unkar no less, she can’t say that she truly regrets it. It had felt right, somehow. Almost like a part of her would not have sat right if she had ignored them. Rey tries not to dwell on it, especially since she knows that she doesn't really have the answer for her odd behaviour.

Besides, those two might have their own bantha-sized share of secrets, but Rey didn’t really sense that they were outright malicious or that the two bore any ill-will. Were Rey another person, she might have kept digging for answers. But on Jakku, that kind of persistence only gets you killed. More than a handful of those who had found their way to Jakku had come because they had something to hide. Those sorts of secrets usually unfolded in a way that ended with the barrel of a blaster pistol pressed between your eyes. 

She is cautious, sure, but then who isn't initially leery of off-worlders? She isn't scared of them though, not in the same way she is scared of those that prowl the desert past sundown. A primal fear that had helped her get out of sticky situations more than once in the past. And the fact that they had been nothing if not polite to her, with the occasional exception of Anakin, had afforded them a modicum of her grudging respect. On Jakku, kindness is a luxury not many can afford.

Rey absently runs her fingers through the knotted tangles of her hair, the worn straps of fabric she uses for her hair ties spread out across her lap. As she goes through the repetitive motions of twisting and pulling her hair back into her usual hairstyle, she stops to think about that persistent thread of  _ something _ that had been niggling in the back of her head for some time now. 

It's as if she’s on the cusp of something bigger than she could have ever imagined. A pounding rhythm that beats an erratic tattoo in her subconscious, almost as if it was trying to  _ tell _ her something. It's another one of her  _ gut feelings _ , she's sure of it, and she hasn’t really been  _ wrong _ about those before but—

She sighs, shaking her head at her train of thought. It's best that she doesn't get carried away with her fanciful thoughts. She just knows that those two have no intention of staying on Jakku for long, never mind the fact that they currently don't have the means to get  _ off _ the planet if their ship really was scrapped for parts. 

They had seemed like a resourceful lot, though. They would probably be gone before the next standard month and then that would be the end of that. 

With a yawn and a stretch, she goes about getting ready to start her day.

* * *

“Girl!” Unkar’s loud bellow rents through the open expanse of the Outpost, startling more than a few passing scavengers and off-worlders lingering around the area near his blockhouse. He’s squinting at her from the slits of the barred window of his Concession stand, looking rather miffed when he catches sight of her. 

Rey clenches her jaw and sighs, but otherwise shows no signs of voicing her displeasure. She’s already in so much shavit as it is, even she knows when to bite her tongue and let Unkar’s anger flow its course. She did not live this long on this hell pit of a planet by believing that she is completely indispensable. If she gives Unkar enough reason to see her as a problem then he would gladly toss her out for the ripper-raptors without a second thought. 

She grudgingly makes her way over to his Concession stand, keeping a tight grip on her quarterstaff as she passes by Unkar’s grunts posted by the entrance of the stand’s shoddy tent. Thankfully, none of them descend on her like a pack of feral akks so she figures she can’t have angered Unkar  _ that _ much.

Unkar waves off the scavenger lingering by the front of the line as Rey makes her way over to them, and the Twi'lek is more than happy to oblige. No one really wants to face Unkar’s wrath, doing so meant certain death if the Crolute ever decided to withhold giving out his rations over a perceived slight. And that was Unkar at his  _ most _ merciful. 

“I don’t have any parts yet, I just stopped by to refuel my speeder—” 

“Save it, girl," Unkar cuts her off unceremoniously, his jowls practically quivering with each word he utters through clenched teeth. "I heard that you’ve been pretty chummy with those two off-worlders." 

_ What? _ Rey blinks. Then blinks again, briefly wondering if Unkar had finally gone and lost whatever shred of sanity he had left from too much exposure from the sun - he was an aquatic species after all, Jakku was probably like his personal hell. 

As she recalls, she was barely even nice to them, let alone whatever it was that Unkar was trying to imply. Is the Crolute worried that she'll try and talk them out of dealing with him? Fat chance of that happening. It's not like anyone really has a choice if they wanted to leave. It's either deal with Unkar and the exorbitant prices for his services and components, or try and sweet talk your way into joining the crew of the folks who stopped by Jakku to refuel. Having credits couldn't hurt your case either.

“No, I wasn’t,” she denies with an incredulous shake of her head. “They had a few questions and I answered them, that's  _ all _ .”

Unkar harrumphs but he says nothing more on the matter. He simply waves her off with a gruff warning of, “Mark my words, those two are going to be nothing but trouble."

"They just want to get off Jakku," Rey snaps before she can stop herself, her temper getting the best of her. 

_ Kark _ . 

For a long moment, neither one of them moves, she barely even dares to breathe. Then, like a pole-snake poised to strike, Unkar braces himself on the counter, the durasteel groaning in protest under the strain of his weight. 

"If you knew what was good for you—” here Unkar pauses and gestures to the handful of rations methodically splayed out on the counter. His narrowed eyes dart back to her as he says, “You’d steer clear of those two hutt-spawns.” He then flashes her a smile that could make feral ripper-raptors scatter.

It might have seemed like a reproach made out of misguided concern from anyone else but Rey understands it for what it really is, a warning for her not to compromise his business with the off-worlders. 

Even without Unkar's ridiculous display of subtle aggression, the challenge was clear in his voice.  _ See what happens if you step out of line _ , he seemed to taunt.  _ I just dare you _ .

Rey wisely bites back anything else she might have wanted to say, simply jerking her head in an approximation of agreement. Unkar grunts, his eyes flickering to the growing line behind her. 

A slow murmur is rising in the air, the horde of bored and hungry scavengers vocalizing their impatience.

“I’ll be going now,” she says in lieu of a farewell but in the end, it’s pointless. Unkar has already turned his attention to the next scavenger, a clear dismissal of her. 

Rey’s knuckles blanch as she tightens her grip on her quarterstaff, inwardly fuming. She leaves in a huff, grasping on to her composure by her fingertips. She weaves her way past the tight pack of bodies near the entrance, nearly ramming into a Dybrinthe on her way out. 

The Dybrinthe grunts and says something scathing in their native tongue, gesturing at her wildly but Rey is already a few steps ahead, too lost in her angry thoughts to pay them any mind.

" _ Humans _ ," the Dybrinthe scoffs, affronted. " _ Always so prickly _ ."

* * *

"Well this is…"

"One hell of a karking mess."

Obi-Wan sighs, more at their situation than at Anakin's choice of words, though that certainly doesn't help matters. 

"Succinct as ever, Padawan," Obi-Wan remarks, staring up at the bare husk of what used to be their star-yacht in resignation.  _ Though he certainly isn't wrong _ , he thinks privately to himself.

"Well, there's no use in dressing up the situation, Master. We're well and truly karked. This!" Anakin gestures expansively at the husk, growing more and more agitated by the minute. "Is just the sweetberry on top of the heaping pile of  _ banthash _ —"

"I believe you’ve made your point, Anakin," Obi-Wan smoothly interjects before Anakin can work himself into a fit. "Center yourself, young one. Losing our heads won't help us solve the problem any faster."

Anakin huffs out a few ragged breaths but says nothing else on the matter. He merely flexes his hands as his shoulders heave with his effort of reining in his emotions. 

He turns away from Obi-Wan's probing stare, angling his back to their ship and his Master as he works on composing himself. A frisson of embarrassment slips through their bond before it disappears behind the durasteel walls of Anakin's shields. 

The boy is clearly agitated, that much is apparent. As a matter of fact, he has been rather anxious ever since he had woken up from his restless sleep. 

When Anakin had cracked his eyes open this morning, it wasn't with a breathless scream but a choked, full-bodied gasp, like his voice had been stolen from him. His unease and terror had left a sour note in the air but no matter how much Obi-Wan had tried to carefully broach the subject, his Padawan had been oddly tight-lipped about it.

Obi-Wan is aware of Anakin's night terrors — he has borne witness to the devastating aftermath of some of the more violent ones, after all. He can still remember one night when a veritable explosion in the Force had jostled him from his sleep, the psychic blast rattling at his senses as if a thermal detonator had gone off nearby. 

Everything that wasn't bolted down to the floor had been levitating a few feet off the ground, likely due to the jagged shards of the Force writhing in response to Anakin's turmoil. It had been a struggle to wrench Anakin from the throes of his nightmare but when the boy had eventually startled awake, all the things suspended mid-air had come crashing down.

That had been a nightmare in and of itself to explain to the Council.

The episode this morning had been much more subdued in comparison but Obi-Wan had glimpsed at the look of pure terror in Anakin's eyes as he had stared vacantly ahead, like he couldn't see Obi-Wan in front of him.

Whatever Anakin had dreamed about had unnerved him, so much so that he refused to dwell on it. But Obi-Wan knows that if he lets that darkness fester, it will slowly eat up at Anakin until all that is left is an empty husk.

"Will you tell me what's really bothering you, Anakin?" Obi-Wan turns to face the sand dunes in the distance to give the boy a private moment to gather his thoughts. "I very much doubt that it's only the loss of our ship that's got you so worked up."

Anakin bows his head, ashamed by his outbursts. The scorching heat certainly isn't helping him with the tenuous grasp he has on his temper either. 

He carefully considers his words, absently wiping at a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. "It's what the scavenger girl said, or rather what she  _ didn't _ say that's still stuck with me," he explains, swallowing thickly. "If this is some sort of future that has yet come to pass, then something has happened. Something terrible. The Jedi, Master. What happened to them? Where are they?"

Obi-Wan has no response to that, but the strained tone in Anakin's voice strikes a chord deep within. 

"It feels empty, Master. The Force is too quiet," Anakin murmurs vehemently, face tight with repressed emotion. 

“Does this have anything to do with your dream last night?” Obi-Wan asks, turning his head just so, observing Anakin from the corner of his eye. 

Anakin shudders, probably remembering whatever visceral emotion had gripped him in the midst of his nightmare. “It was nothing concrete,” he reluctantly admits, a rare admission on the boy’s part since he very rarely opens up about his dreams to anyone, much less to Obi-Wan. It must be weighing down on him more than Obi-Wan realises. “I just felt sorrow, pain. A-and anger. So much  _ anger _ . There is a Darkness here, Master, like an abscess in the Force that's barely healed over."

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, pained. He has felt it too, felt the agonising  _ absence _ in the Force. A void where once there were thousands of pinpricks of Light, is now only filled with gloom and uncertainty. 

"It's no coincidence that this Empire was led by the Sith. I bet you all my credits that they're responsible for whatever happened to the Jedi," Anakin grits out, finally turning on his heel to face Obi-Wan, a hard glint in his eyes.

Obi-Wan strokes his beard thoughtfully.  _ Darth Vader _ . Someone who had been connected to this Empire, the Emperor’s  _ right hand man _ , according to Rey. Their name must have carried much weight in this twisted and warped future — Obi-Wan had seen true and honest fear in Rey’s eyes when she had mentioned the Sith Lord. Whoever they might have been, they had certainly left a dark and bloody legacy in their wake. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan hums distractedly, deep in his own thoughts. “You might be right.”

“Which is why we have to do something about it,” Anakin says, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. 

Obi-Wan lowers his hand from his chin, startled by his Padawan’s brazen words. “Beg pardon?”

Anakin runs a frenzied hand through his hair, making the short spikes stand on end. “If this is the will of the Force somehow, then surely we’re here for a reason. What else would it be than to find out whatever calamity happened that set these things in motion and put a stop to it.”

“Oh, is that all,” Obi-Wan says mildly, his brows arched. 

“Master,” Anakin starts, voice pitched low, almost pleadingly. Then, in an echo of his earlier words, he says, “We have to do  _ something _ .”

Obi-Wan purses his lips, taking in the true magnitude of the task they had ahead of them. He exhales sharply through his nose, already sensing that Anakin wouldn’t be swayed either way. 

_ His Padawan has a point though _ , Obi-Wan admits. If they want to find their way back to their current timeline, they couldn’t very well stand idly by. 

“If that is indeed the case, then we’ll need to find out more about what happened first. I sense that the answers to our questions do not lie here on Jakku, which makes our current situation a bit of a problem.” 

They both spare a moment to stare at the remains of their ship, stripped bare and utterly  _ useless _ . 

“Well, we’ve gotten by with less, in the past,” Anakin mutters, squinting his eyes against the sun’s harsh glare. He then takes in a fortifying breath, standing a little straighter. “We’ll find a way off this dustball, Master. We always do.”

“Never a dull moment with you around, hm, Padawan?” Obi-Wan asks with a resigned sort of amusement, shaking his head. 

Anakin smiles at that, the first bit of levity the boy had shown the entire morning. “I thought I’d give your life a bit of excitement.”

Obi-Wan didn’t even bother to respond to that. A head full of premature grey hairs was more like it. Instead, he tilts his head in the direction of Niima Outpost. “Come along then, we’ve got our work cut out for us.”


End file.
